Square One, Squared
by lankypanky
Summary: This is meant to take place a few months after the "A New Life" ending.  The one with the super happy nuclear family thing that took me like three tries to get to, killing everyone repeatedly in the process.  Sorry, everyone, for killing you repeatedly.


Madison crept into the apartment as quietly as she could, letting her right hand fumble once again with the cut on her face. _God, I let it get so late again. When is the witching hour? I don't remember, but this sure __**feels **__like it should be called that_. _I am going to fall asleep so hard that Ethan's going to have to get me up with a cattle prod_.

When she opened the door to the bedroom, she was startled by the sight of two bodies curled together in the bed, and for a split second, thought she'd discovered Ethan cheating on her. She realized almost immediately, however, that the smaller of the two was Shaun. Father and son were loosely entangled with each other and the sheets, their faces made serious by sleep. She smiled, and pulled the door closed to leave them together.

She hesitated – should she try to catch a few hours of sleep in Shaun's bed, or on the sofa? She wearily pulled her shoes off as she moved into the bathroom.

Madison flinched at the sight of her own face in the mirror. Her split lip didn't hurt too badly, but it looked pretty terrible. She sighed, already feeling guilty about the lie she was going to have to tell Shaun. She couldn't exactly explain to a ten-year-old that she'd been pushed down by a pimp. _I guess the least I can do is not sleep in his bed tonight_, she thought as she washed her face. _Anyway, if I sleep on the sofa, then they'll both see me first thing in the morning._ She knew how they both worried.

Back out in the living room, she wriggled out of her jeans and kicked them to the floor, pulling the afghan off the back of the sofa and drawing it over her. She was almost instantly asleep.

* * *

She awoke to daylight and Shaun shaking her shoulder. "Good morning, Madison," he grinned, then dropped his jaw as she rolled towards him. She panicked and came hastily awake, thinking_, Oh, no, he just noticed that I'm half-naked_, but a look downwards reassured her that the afghan was still in place.

"What happened to your face?" Shaun looked spooked.

"Oh, sweetie, I just banged my lip a little. It's fine. It doesn't even really hurt." She managed to work up a comforting smile for him, trying not to flinch. _Okay, it does hurt. A little_.

"I have to go now," he said, and Madison realized he was already dressed, his backpack slung over one shoulder. "Dad said I could wake you up to say goodbye. I'm going back to Mom's place after school today."

"Wow, I didn't even hear you guys getting ready," she said, surprised. "Guess I really was sleepy, huh."

"Well, you know," called Ethan from the kitchenette, "That's what happens when you stay out all night." She looked guiltily up towards him. Shaun might be dressed and ready, but Ethan was still in pyjama bottoms and an undershirt, unshaven. _Oh, Ethan, honey, you look so worn out. I hope you didn't stay up too late_. He was washing dishes, and didn't meet her gaze. Shaun looked back and forth between them, nervously, apparently aware that he was missing something, but unsure as to what it was.

The honk of the car outside saved them. Ethan moved to the front window, peered through the blinds. "Carpool, Shaun." He began to trudge towards the front door, and Shaun protested.

"Come on, Dad, I can walk to the car by myself. Jeez." Madison smiled at his bid for independence, and impulsively pulled him in for a hug before the boy dashed for the door. Ethan stood awkwardly by, and moved back to the window, presumably watching Shaun's progress. Madison could hear the car pulling away before he turned back towards her.

Ethan drifted silently towards the couch, hovering over her. His face was blank, unreadable. _Poor baby,_ she thought sympathetically._ He's going to have to let Shaun start growing up_. Still, she hated to see him looking so lost.

"Come on," she said, pulling impishly at his undershirt. "I just thought of something we should do as long as I'm not wearing any pants." He resisted her grasp, keeping his eyes down and away from her face. "Don't be like that, lover." She yanked again, but he still refused to look her in the eyes. "Don't _test_ me, mister," – yank – "I know where you live, and I'm a desperate woman." She kicked off the afghan and grabbed his pyjama bottoms with her other hand. Overbalanced, he stumbled towards her, onto her, and surrendered.

They started on the sofa, and the trail of clothing began there, joining Madison's jeans on the floor. By the time they made it all the way onto the bed, she had even pulled off his socks.

* * *

Madison fell asleep again afterwards, contented. In the stillness, Ethan gazed thoughtfully at her perfect back. He wanted to run his fingers down the column of her lovely spine, clasp the molded whiteness of her buttocks, give himself over again to exploring her compact fragility. Though she was facing away from him, her damaged mouth loomed in his imagination. He made his hands be still. It wasn't fair to wake her now, to touch her now. He already regretted his weakness. He left the bed carefully and headed for the shower. By the time she woke again, the apartment was already empty.

* * *

It was another long, draining day for her, frustrating interviews, elusive answers. _Boy, interviewing prostitutes_ _**sucks**_**.** The street light in front of the building was burned out when she got home, and she had to wrestle a little bit to get her key to fit properly into the lock of the front door. She was almost done with the dang story now, though. Almost done with the research part of it, anyway – she still had to _write_ most of it, but at least she could stop tearing around town for a little bit now. _God, I can't believe it's almost two in the morning. Maybe I should just spend another night on the couch, not wake Ethan up_.

The apartment was pitch-black, and when she flicked the overhead light into life, she almost jumped out of her skin, letting out a tiny shriek. Ethan was seated on the sofa, blinking drowsily towards her.

"Jesus, Ethan!" she gasped at him. "You scared the _shit_ out of me!" She laughed in relief, tossing her helmet on the floor. "What did you do, fall asleep sitting up?"

"Yeah," he said, looking around vaguely. "I guess I did."

"You look sleepy, hon." She smiled fondly towards him as she thought about how vulnerable he looked, half-asleep. How like a little boy. Like Shaun. "Were you waiting for me? C'mon, let's get you into bed."

"No, I need to talk to you."

_Oh, shit_, she thought. "Right now? I'm pretty tired, too. Can we talk in the morning?"

"No, this is important. Please, sit down."

"Listen," she said, perching across from him on the edge of the easy chair. "I know, it's been two nights in a row. I swear, I'm pretty much done with the story. It's almost over."

He swallowed, hard, visibly, and she held her breath, thinking, _Probably not going to be able to screw your way out of this one, girl_.

"It's not over, Madison," he said, softly. "It's pretty obvious that it's not over." She began to protest, and he held up his hands to stop her. "No, listen to me. Maybe you're almost done with _this_ story, but what about the next one? What about the next time Shaun comes crying into my bed because he's so worried about you? When you don't come home? The next time he sees you hurt? I don't even want to know what happened to your face. But it's not okay that he has to see it. He's seen enough."

She'd flushed guiltily at the first mention of Shaun. "It's not fair to tell me to stop, Ethan, you know that," she said heatedly. "It's not fair to tell me to not do my job."

"I'm not," he responded quietly. "I'm saying I can't do this any more."

She didn't understand what he meant for a minute. "You just . . . you're, what, dumping me?" _Dumping, _she thought irrationally, feeling her pulse quicken. _Dumping, like we're in high school. You couldn't pick a better word than dumping? What the hell do you do for a living?_

He looked so sad. "I can't do it again. After what happened to Jason, and then Shaun. I can't take it. My heart can't take it. I'm so tired of being so afraid all the time."

"Are you kicking me out, now? What the _hell_, Ethan? Is that what you're doing?"

He rubbed his forehead, staring at the floor.

"You're so afraid of hurting Shaun," she continued in a rush, "What are you going to say to him when he gets back and I'm not here, huh?"

"He'll miss you. I'll miss you. I can explain why you're gone, help him understand. He's been through that before, with me and Grace. But I wouldn't be able to help him if you turned up dead. I don't think I'd even be able to help myself. We've both been through so much already. We both – we both already miss you."

She rose to her feet, furious. She knew she'd regret her rush of rage later, but she couldn't make herself stop. "Yeah, it's been a real picnic for me, too, asshole. Do you remember how long it even took me to start sleeping through the night when we all moved in here?"

"I know." His expression didn't change. "I'm so sorry, Madison. Please, understand that I am really, truly sorry." She was already turning away from him, whirling on her heel, diving for her helmet.

"That's great. That makes everything so much better." She felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes, and swallowed hard to keep them at bay. "Let me know when I can get my stuff. Unless you're just going to dump it on the curb."

He had his head in his hands now, unmoving, as she darted through the front door.

* * *

He stayed on the couch a long time, not ready yet to face that empty bed. He wished he could cry, but he was so terribly, so deeply tired, that it felt like there was no room left in his body for any other emotion.

* * *

Madison sped through the night on her motorcycle, heading into the darkness, knowing she was going too fast, knowing that she was going to end up back at that stupid hotel, at that damn place where this all started. Knowing she wouldn't sleep when she got there. Knowing she might not ever sleep right again.

* * *

The long, impossible night stretched out in front of them both, gaping like a hungry mouth.

* * *

**Author's note:**

Wow, horizontal break abuse, ahoy! I should probably try to figure out a different way to break this up visually, but I'm not sure how, yet.

Come on. You know I'm not wrong about their inevitable breakup. There was no way it was ever going to work out. Their entire relationship was based off adrenaline and panicked, sweaty sex. I don't begrudge them the happiness they grabbed during the events of the game, but . . . seriously.


End file.
